Three Sentence Ficathon

When the first harpoon slices the water beside her, the witch sighs and thrusts herself up, letting the waves surge around her to ensure she has space as she surfaces, reaching for the shell pendant at her neck.

She holds it before her and takes the thin brittle calcite of the shell between her fingers, bends it, turns it back on itself, twists it and yanks and at last flips the nautilus inside out. The song is released, launching into the air around, driving all who come seeking wonders backwards, away from here, leaving them unmolested.